


Starlight in the Shrubs

by Delirious_Comfort



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious_Comfort/pseuds/Delirious_Comfort
Summary: A tiny little monster keeps poking his head through Emma Swan's shrubs. The shrubs in her garden that separate her from the garden that is newly occupied by Henry and his Stepford mom. After a few accidental encounters Emma Swan realizes that Regina Mills might not be as Stepford-y as she presents, and definitely is hiding something. But that's okay... so is she.(I feel very compelled to point out that their secrets are in no way correlated to what's in their pants after searching through the AO3 tag.)
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 16
Kudos: 119





	Starlight in the Shrubs

**Author's Note:**

> Look. Here's the thing. I'm super depressed and I need some serotonin. I like writing this story, so I'm hoping it will provide it for me. I cannot guarantee you daily or weekly updates. But I can guarantee that when I do update, it's either going to be super fluffy or you'll cry. Sometimes even both. So if that's your thing... Welcome.

The first time it happens, Emma nearly has a heart attack. She's been sitting on the back patio for a good two hours when she hears some rustling in the shrubs that separates her lawn from that of the neighbors. The rustling in itself isn't that strange; it’s the tiny hand that's clawing at the dirt that makes the hairs in her neck stand up straight. 

_What the actual flying fuck?_

She briefly wonders if this is how zombie apocalypses start. That is until a soft murmur turns into an amused giggle and she's fairly sure zombies don't giggle. Hesitantly, she steps closer and sinks down to her knees and promptly falls on her ass when she's greeted by the face of a small child. 

This is the stuff of nightmares. Albeit a somewhat cute nightmare.

"Hai."

"Eh, hi?" 

She cocks her head to the side and tries to fully comprehend what she's seeing. The head poking through the bushes belongs to a young child, although she has no idea how old he is. Guessing ages has never really been her forte and parents claiming their child is thirty-six months just confuses her to no end.

She frowns as the child doesn't move, well, aside from the small hand that's still grabbing at dirt. "Are you stuck down there?"

The child doesn't answer her, as he's seemingly much more interested in the dirt that he's now trying to bring to his mouth. 

"I don't think you're supposed to eat that, you know," she says. 

"Henry eat?"

"Nooo," she says, shaking her head. "Henry should definitely not eat."

"Ow."

"Oh, is right," she says and she offers what she hopes is a kind smile. "So, little man, what are you doing?"

"Henry play?"

Emma moves off her ass and lays down flat on her stomach. Her right hand reaches out and brushes off some of the dirt that's in Henry's tiny fist. 

"There, all better. Now you can play."

Henry says nothing and just looks at her with wide brown eyes that seem to be filled with mischief. Or perhaps it's panic. She really doesn't know the first thing about children, but she's fairly sure they shouldn't be poking their heads out of thick shrubs that - so far - have kept her from properly meeting her neighbors. 

She quickly scans the area around Henry's neck and is satisfied when she doesn't see any branches stuck in his throat. The last thing she wants is for the tiny man to slowly bleed to death as she's making casual conversation with him.

"So, you're not stuck, that's–"

"Henry? Where are you?"

Henry's eyes grow wide as he suddenly seems to realize the predicament that he's in. His eyes are slowly glistening over and before Emma knows what's happening, or can do anything to stop it, he's wailing as if the faith of the world is solely dependent on his cries. 

"Sshh," she tries. "You're okay. You got in there, you can get out!"

"Henry? Hen– oh god, Henry Mills, what in the world are you doing?"

Emma bites her lip, not entirely sure what she's supposed to do. Damage control, probably. It's just the 'how' bit that she's stuck on.

"Hi, he's fine," she says and nods to herself. He really is. Right? "He's just playing with some dirt; I don't think he's stuck or anything."

"Who are you?"

It's a fair enough question. For a moment she ponders who she is, until she realizes that whoever is talking to her, probably isn't interested in her personal life crisis. 

"I'm Emma, I live next door."

"Well, I gathered that. Is he stuck?"

Emma frowns at the hostility in the woman's voice. "Nah, he got in there, he can get out, can't you, lil' man?" 

Henry makes a movement that resembles somewhat of a nod and she smiles. His cries have died down and all there's left is an insane amount of snot that sort of pops out of his nose every time he releases a breath from his dirt covered face.

"See? He's nodding."

"I can't see that and excuse me for worrying about my son being stuck in some shrubs."

"Okay," Emma mumbles. "But, like honestly? He's not stuck. All he has to do is crawl backwards. Or you could pull at him, I guess?"

"I'm getting the scissors," the voice says and Emma winces. 

"I don't think your regular paper cutting scissors are gonna free him from there."

"I meant the garden shears, you imbecile."

Emma leans in closer to Henry and tries to see what's happening on the other side of the shrubs that entices such a response from a worried mother, but all she sees are two black heels that are slightly sinking into the grass as they move towards a shed.

_Ah, a Stepford mom._

"That your mommy?" She whispers it to him in the hopes that his mom can't hear her. 

"Mommy!"

"I'm coming Henry, just stay still," the woman calls out. "Can you hold his hands please?"

Emma frowns, not entirely sure that this is the best plan at all. "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I'm sure he can get out and shears aren't exactly safe."

"I wasn't planning on cutting his head off."

Well, she can't argue with that, nor does she want to try out of fear the woman will cut her own head off. She takes Henry's left hand in his hers and searches for his right arm in the shrubs. Gently she pulls it through the thick shrubs and clasps both his hands firmly in her own. So far, the child has been quite okay with everything that's happened and for that she respects him just a little bit more. 

"You're okay, lil' man. Just stay still, okay?"

"Otay."

For a moment she wonders whether he truly understands her, but there's no time to ponder it over as small branches are cut away that surround the boy. She places both his hands in her right hand and carefully takes away the branches as they come loose. 

Within minutes there's a gaping half-oval shape in their shrubs and Henry is completely free. She lets go of his hands and smiles at him before he's picked up by his mother. Unsure of what to do, she stands up and brushes off her hands. 

"So eh, he's free."

"I'm well aware."

Before she can even reply she can hear Henry's giggles getting softer and a door slams shut.

"You're welcome," she shouts before sinking into her chair again. Her left hand reaches for her phone that's been overheating in the sun and she sends a quick text to her mom. 

_Just rescued a child from a killer plant. You may call me a Savior now. With a capital letter._

She grins at herself and waits with a slightly elevated heartbeat as she can see her mother is typing a reply. It takes forever but when the reply finally comes through, she's snickering out loud and clicks on the facetime symbol and waits. It rings only twice before her mom's face shows up on her phone and she nearly drops it. 

"What on earth is on your face?"

"It's called a facemask, sweetheart."

"You look like a swamp monster that just realized it needs oxygen and emerged to the surface."

"Always so kind. You get that from your father."

"Pretty sure I'm made of both of you," she says and sticks her tongue out. "Whatcha up to?"

"I'm currently waiting for your father to come home from his shift so he can take me out to dinner like he promised," her mother says.

"Dinner at Granny's?"

Her mom shakes her head and Emma can barely stop the giggle at the sight of green gunk that's flying off her face as she moves. 

"I hope not. I was hoping for something a little bit more romantic. I love Granny's, but it's not really date night worthy."

"Hm, agree to disagree. Date night at Granny's sounds wonderful."

"That's because you never date so you have no standards," her mom points out. "Speaking of dating, I gave your number to the cashier at the supermarket the other day. She was a lovely girl, well, woman really. And gay!"

Emma groans. "You have to stop doing that. I can find my own dates, thank you very much."

"When was your last date?"

"So, aren't you curious about my savior story," she tries. Her dating life really wasn't all that exciting, and she wants to leave the topic behind as quickly as possible.

"Ah yes, do tell, sweetheart."

"Henry–"

"Who's Henry?"

"Good grief, let me speak!" Emma laughs and glares funnily before continuing. "Henry is the son of my next-door neighbors. I've not met them yet, aside from that brief encounter in the garden just now. He's totally adorable and really into mud, I think. He got stuck, or his mom said he got stuck. I think he would've been able to crawl backwards. Kids can do that right? Crawl backwards?"

"Depends on how old he was, I'd say."

"Old enough to speak and old enough to get himself in there. Anyway, I think his mom is one of those Stepford wives." Her mom laughs then and Emma grins. "I'm serious, her black heels were all I could see, but who the hell wears heels in a grass-covered garden?"

"Henry's mom?"

"Ha, smart ass. I held onto his hands and his mom cut some of the branches away, a few minutes later he was free and promptly taken inside. Perhaps she's replacing him with an upgraded model as we speak. One that can crawl backwards or one that's been programmed not to crawl into the bushes."

"Henry is a robot now?"

"Could be," Emma exclaims. "You never know with these people."

"It sounds like his mom was the real savior in this scenario, not you."

"I held onto his hands! I might have contracted germs and the likes. I could be dying of some ancient bacteria as we speak."

She quickly glances as her hands. Aside from the expected dirty, they look fine. Still, Henry is a child and children are germ factories. Can't be too careful around them. 

"I should wash my hands," she murmurs to herself.

"Honey, you should do that anyway. But I'm sure you're fine."

"You did vaccinate me when I was a child, right? Or were you one of those anti-vaxxers? Because if you were, I'll–"

"Emma!" Of course, we did!"

Emma's about to reply when a high-pitched shriek comes from the speakers and she winces. Her mom's face disappears, and her dad appears instead. 

"EMMA, RUN!"

"I'm not actually there," she points out. "So technically, you should be doing the running."

"It's your mother, she's gone! There's some kind of swamp monster instead."

Emma laughs. She loves their silly tactics if she isn't exposed to it all day. "Told you mom," she says. "You look like a swamp monster."

"Hi," her father says. "How you doin'?"

"You're too old to do impressions, dad. I'm good. How was work?"

"Boring, I came home early. What are you up to?"

"Just talking to mom, rescued a child, all in a day’s work really."

"That's my girl. Got to go, kiddo. Mary Margaret looks like she's about to burst into tears because I haven't kissed her properly yet."

"Ew, did not need to know that," Emma replies. "Talk soon." She gives a quick wave to the camera and disconnects the call. 

Sinking down further into her chair, she closes her eyes. Just a minute, she thinks. 

When she awakes several hours later, she's shivering, and the sun is long gone. When she stands up it feels as if someone's trying to rip off her skin all at once and it's only then that she notices the heavy sun burn on her legs and arms. 

"Crap."

She's about to gather her things to make some dinner, when she hears the neighbor's backdoor open. Curiosity gets the better of her, so she remains quiet as a mouse as she listens to the garbled speech of an overly excited child and a mother who warns him not to get stuck in the shrubs again.

"Five minutes, Henry. Then it's bath and bedtime!"

Smirking, she stares at the shrubs, wondering if she should offer to replace them with new shrubs. That's what a good neighbor would do, right? Then again, up until several hours ago she had never even noticed there had been a child living next door. Had never heard him cry deep in the night or heard him giggle even once. 

Her phone chimes and she smiles at the picture of her mom and dad having dinner at Granny's. She can see Ruby in the background throwing up a peace sign and she's confident her mom hasn't noticed that yet. After typing out a quick reply, she puts her phone down again. 

"Hai!"

"Oh shit," she murmurs. 

Henry is now sitting on the grass. On her side of the shrubs. 

"Kiddo, what are you doing?"

"Henry play?"

"Oh man," she groans, standing up. Taking quick steps, she tries to peer over the shrubs, but they're a little too tall for her to see anything. "Uhm, lady? Your son is on my lawn."

There's no response and she looks down at Henry, who looks up at her with a bright smile. 

"You're kinda cute," she says. "But you should go home before your mom has another heart attack." 

She takes a step back when Henry gets up on his feet, wobbles some and promptly falls again. She winces, hoping he won't cry again, but it just seems to amuse him, as he tries again. This time he succeeds and walks over to her, his tiny fists now clinging to her pants. 

"Up!"

"I don't think that's a good idea. We just met and all. Has your mom not taught you about stranger danger yet?"

"Up," he says again, but this time his lower lip is suspiciously curved into a shape that either resembles a puppy face or one that means he's pooping. She hasn't been paying enough attention to children to be able to successfully distinguish such faces. That is a parent’s job and Emma Swan is no parent, thank you very much.

"Alright," she says, I'll pick you up, if you promise not to poop on me." 

Her face is scrunched up in something that is expecting to be hit with a reeking odor soon, but thankfully Henry smells squeaky clean as she hoists him up on her hip. 

"Hi."

"Play?"

She shakes her head. "No play. I think it's time we return you to your mother, before she calls the police for a potential kidnapping and let me tell you," she says, her pointy-finger gently poking him in the stomach. "That's gonna get really awkward, real fast."

Turning on her heels, she walks through her living room, grabs the lanyard that her keys are attached too and with a swift movement the lanyard is around her neck.

It's also her first mistake because as soon as Henry sees it, his pudgy fingers grasp the lanyard between his fingers, and he yanks it surprisingly hard for a boy that is somewhere between six and five hundred months old. That pans out, right? She really doesn't do math.

"Christ, kid, careful please. I'm gonna need that neck later."

As she opens her front door, her eyes grow about ten sizes as she hears him repeat the word. He can't pronounce his R's perfectly but judging by the way he's saying it, carefully and definitely not just once, he has just learned a new word. Technically a curse word. Her second mistake. 

She winces and looks at him. She has no idea what to do. Does she appeal to his better nature and ask him to never repeat that word again? Will it make him just say the word obsessively? 

That's how she works. She can't have a piece of pie? She'll eat the whole damn thing while looking straight at the offender who told her no. Nobody tells Emma no. 

"Uhm," she begins until Henry looks at her. His fingers still wrapped around the lanyard. Perhaps he's holding on to dear life. Perhaps he's scared she's gonna drop him and-- oh god. What if she drops him?

"Never mind, kid. More important things to do!"

Her eyes dart from the ground to what's in front of her, suddenly scared to death that she's gonna trip with a baby in her hands. She can just imagine how that would go. 

_'Why yes, Mrs. Stepford, I do promise that's your son beneath all this blood. Honestly, you should see my front step, it looks far worse than him!'_

His Stepford mother would kill her. Skin her alive. 

Perhaps more carefully than she needs to, she starts walking towards her neighbor’s house. It's separated by a small building that serves as a shed for them both, separated by a brick wall. Their houses are practically the same, just mirrored.

She rings the doorbell and taps her foot impatiently. Her right arm is starting to go numb, but she's scared if she puts him down now, he'll run away, and she might never be able to find him with his need to hide in shrubbery. 

And god, she doesn't know what possesses her. But as soon as the door opens, she lowers her voice, tries to look strictly at Henry and says, "Ma'am, we caught your son breaking and entering."

There is no response whatsoever. 

Not from Henry.

Not from his mother.

Just awkward silence.

This is it. Her third strike and she's out. 

"Will you just take him," she whispers as Henry's crawls into his mother's arms. Emma has yet to look up at her. She's too embarrassed to make eye contact. 

"Do you mind telling me what you were doing with my son?"

The tone isn't exactly accusing, but it also isn't nice. It's a tone she's intimately familiar with. A tone of caution. 

She takes a deep breath and looks up and– _holy fuck. Fourth strike. Abort all missions._

Okay. So. Henry's mother is a stunning Stepford wife. That's okay. She can deal with that without being a disastrous bisexual.

"H-he crawled through my hole," she stammers. Then her eyes widen, and she coughs. "Not my hole. I guess... Our hole? In the garden?"

_Oh god._

"That you made," she adds hastily. "So really it's your own fault. He crawled through it and he wanted to play. I thought it was better to return him like this than to send him bushwhacking."

Okay so maybe she cannot get through this without being a disastrous bisexual. 

She swings herself around and makes a run for it before Henry's mom can yell at her for whatever she did wrong in the one-minute Henry was in her care. Or you know... for her blatant dumbass responses. 

_Bushwhacking. Who even says that?_

It's only when she stands in front of her own front door, her fingers reaching up for her keys that she realizes Henry is not only a home escape artist. He's also a freaking thief. 


End file.
